Poems from the Divan of Hafiz

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According to an account by Jami , Hafez died in Timur upbraided him for this verse and said; "By the blows of my well tempered sword I have conquered the greater part of the world to enlarge Samarkand and Bukhara , my capitals and residences; and you pitiful creature would exchange these two cities for a mole". Hafez replied "O Sovereign of the world; "It is by the state of similar generosity that I have been reduced, as you see my present state of poverty.

Many semi-miraculous mythical tales were woven around Hafez after his death. It is said that by listening to his father's recitations, Hafez had accomplished the task of learning the Quran by heart at an early age that is the meaning of the word Hafez. According to one tradition, before meeting his self-chosen Sufi master Hajji Zayn al-Attar , Hafez had been working in a bakery, delivering bread to a wealthy quarter of the town.

There, he first saw Shakh-e Nabat, a woman of great beauty, to whom some of his poems are addressed. Ravished by her beauty but knowing that his love for her would not be requited , he allegedly held his first mystic vigil in his desire to realize this union. Still, he encountered a being of surpassing beauty who identified himself as an angel , and his further attempts at union became mystic; a pursuit of spiritual union with the divine.

A Western parallel is that of Dante and Beatrice. At 60, he is said to have begun a Chilla-nashini , a day-and-night vigil by sitting in a circle that he had drawn for himself. On the 40th day, he once again met with Zayn al-Attar on what is known to be their fortieth anniversary and was offered a cup of wine. It was there where he is said to have attained "Cosmic Consciousness". He hints at this episode in one of his verses in which he advises the reader to attain "clarity of wine" by letting it "sit for 40 days". Although he hardly ever traveled outside Shiraz, in one tale, Tamerlane Timur angrily summoned Hafez to account for one of his verses:.

Samarkand was Tamerlane's capital and Bokhara was the kingdom's finest city. Hafez, the tale goes, bowed deeply and replied, "Alas, O Prince, it is this prodigality which is the cause of the misery in which you find me". So surprised and pleased was Timur with this response that he dismissed Hafez with handsome gifts. Hafez was acclaimed throughout the Islamic world during his lifetime, with other Persian poets imitating his work, and offers of patronage from Baghdad to India. His work was first translated into English in by William Jones.

It would leave a mark on such Western writers as Thoreau , Goethe , and Ralph Waldo Emerson the last referred to him as "a poet's poet". Friedrich Engels mentioned him in an letter to Karl Marx:. It is, by the way, rather pleasing to read dissolute old Hafiz in the original language, which sounds quite passable and, in his grammar, old Sir William Jones likes to cite as examples dubious Persian jokes, subsequently translated into Greek verse in his Commentariis poeseos asiaticae , because even in Latin they seem to him too obscene.

II, De Poesi erotica, will amuse you. Persian prose, on the other hand, is deadly dull. Hafez is the most popular poet in Iran, and his works can be found in almost every Iranian home. Twenty years after his death, a tomb, the Hafezieh , was erected to honor Hafez in the Musalla Gardens in Shiraz. Inside, Hafez's alabaster sarcophagus bears the inscription of two of his poems.

Many Iranians use Divan of Hafez for fortune telling. In Iran and Afghanistan , his collected works have come to be used as an aid to popular divination. Iran for an authenticated diwan". Oh wind, if thou passest the garden close Of my heart's dear master, carry for me The message I send to him, wind that blows! As the tulip shrinks from the cold night air, So shrank my heart and quailed in the shade ; Oh Song-bird Fortune, the toils are laid, When shall thy bright wings lie pinioned there?

The heavens' green sea and the bark therein, The slender bark of the crescent moon, Are lost in thy bounty's radiant noon, Vizir and pilgrim, Kawameddin! Heart-gladdening wine thy lips imbrue, Fresh and afresh and new and new! Saki, thy radiant feet I hail ; Flush with red wine the goblets pale, Flush our pale cheeks to drunken hue, Fresh and afresh and new and new! Then with thy love to toy with thee, Rest thee, ah, rest!

Here round thy life the vine is twined ; Drink! Drink to her name, to hours that flew, Hours ever fresh and new and new! She that has stolen my heart from me, How does she wield her empery? Paints and adorns and scents her too, Fresh and afresh and new and new! Wind of the dawn that passest by, Swift to the street of my fairy hie, Whisper the tale of Hafiz true, Fresh and afresh and new and new!

All ye that wait, Where is the Cup-bearer, the flagon where? When pleasant hours slip from the hand of Fate, Reckon each hour as a certain gain ; Who seeks to know the end of mortal care Shall question his experience in vain. Thy fettered life hangs on a single thread Some comfort for thy present ills devise, But those that time may bring thou shalt not dread.

Waters of Life and Irem's Paradise What meaning do our dreams and pomp convey, Save that beside a mighty stream, wide-fed, We sit and sing of wine and go our way! The modest and the merry shall be seen To boast their kinship with a single voice ; There are no differences to choose between, Thou art but flattering thy soul with choice! W r ho knows the Curtain's secret?

by Gertrude Lowthian Bell

The Zealot thirsts for draughts of Kausar's wine, And Hafiz doth an earthly cup prefer But what, between the two, is God's design? Look on my long-drawn road, and whence it came, And where it leads! Can drunkenness be linked to piety And good repute? Where is the preacher's holy monody, Where is the lute?

From monkish cell and lying garb released, Oh heart of mine, Where is the Tavern fane, the Tavern priest, Where is the wine?

Past days of meeting, let the memory Of you be sweet! Where are those glances fled, and where for me Reproaches meet? Balm to mine eyes the dust, my head I bow Upon thy stair. Where shall I go, where from thy presence? Look not upon the dimple of her chin, Danger lurks there! Where wilt thou hide, oh trembling heart, fleeing in Such mad haste where? To steadfastness and patience, friend, ask not If Hafiz keep Patience and steadfastness I have forgot, And where is sleep?

For all the tumult in my drunken brain Praise God! My soul shall rend the painted veil apart. Where art thou, Minstrel! Lo, not at any time I lent mine ear To hearken to the glories of the earth ; Only thy beauty to mine eyes was dear. Sleep has forsaken me, and from the birth Of night till day I weave bright dreams of thee ; Drunk with a hundred nights of revelry, Where is the tavern that sets forth such cheer! My heart, sad hermit, stains the cloister floor With drops of blood, the sweat of anguish dire ; Ah, wash me clean, and o'er my body pour Love's generous wine!

What instrument through last night's silence rang? My life into his lay the minstrel wove, And filled my brain with the sweet song he sang. It was the proclamation of thy love That shook the strings of Life's most secret lyre, And still my breast heaves with last night's desire, For countless echoes from that music sprang. And catching at the boughs in envious mood, A hundred thorns about his heart entwined. Like to the parrot crunching sugar, good Seemed the world to me who could not stay The wind of Death that swept my hopes away.

Light of mine eyes and harvest of my heart, And mine at least in changeless memory! Ah, w r hen he found it easy to depart, He left the harder pilgrimage to me! Oh Camel-driver, though the cordage start, For God's sake help me lift my fallen load, And Pity be my comrade of the road! My face is seamed with dust, mine eyes are wet. Of dust and tears the turquoise firmament Kneadeth the bricks for joy's abode ; and yet. Alas, and weeping yet I make lament! Because the moon her jealous glances set Upon the bow-bent eyebrows of my moon, He sought a lodging in the grave too soon!

What shall I play? And Life shall pause at the deserted door, The cold dead body breathe again and burn. Open the gates and bid me see once more! Like to a cruel Ethiopian band, Sorrow despoiled the kingdom of my heart Return! See now, I hold a mirror to mine eyes, And nought but thy reflection therein lies ; The glass speaks truth to them that understand. Night is with child, hast thou not heard men say? One passion has quickened the heart and the soul, The Beloved's presence alone they have sought Love at least exists ; yet if Love were not, Heart and soul would sink to the common lot All things are nought!

Like an empty cup is the fate of each, That each must fill from Life's mighty flood ; Nought thy toil, though to Paradise gate thou reach, If Another has filled up thy cup with blood ; Neither shade from the sweet-fruited trees could be bought By thy praying oh Cypress of Truth, dost not see That Sidreh and Tuba were nought, and to thee All then were nought! The span of thy life is as five little days, Brief hours and swift in this halting-place ; Rest softly, ah rest! On the lip of Oblivion we linger, and short Is the way from the Lip to the Mouth where we pass While the moment is thine, fill, oh Saki, the glass Ere all is nought!

Be not too sure of your crown, you who thought That virtue was easy and recompense yours ; From the monastery to the wine-tavern doors The way is nought! What though I, too, have tasted the salt of my tears, Though I, too, have burnt in the fires of grief, Shall I cry aloud to unheeding ears? Mourn and be silent! Thou, Hafiz, art praised for the songs thou hast wrought, But bearing a stained or an honoured name, The lovers of wine shall make light of thy fame All things are nought!

Or less or more I have swerved from my path keep thou to thine own! For every man when he reaches the goal Shall reap the harvest his hands have sown. Leave me the hope of a former grace Till the curtain is lifted none can tell Whether in Heaven or deepest Hell, Fair or vile, shall appear his face.

If without the house of devotion I stand, I am not the first to throw wide the door; My father opened it long before, The eternal Paradise slipped from his hand. All you that misconstrue my words' intent, I lie on the bricks of the tavern floor, And a brick shall serve me for argument. Heaven's garden future treasures may yield Ah, make the most of earth's treasury! The flickering shade of the willow-tree, And the grass-grown lip of the fruitful field. Trust not in deeds the Eternal Day Shall reveal the Creator's sentence on thee ; But till then, what His finger has writ, who can say.

Bring the cup in thine hand to the Judgment-seat ; Thou shalt rise, oh Hafiz, to Heaven's gate From the tavern where thou hast tarried late. And if thou hast worshipped wine, thou shalt meet The reward that the Faithful attain ; If such thy life, then fear not thy fate, Thou shalt not have lived and worshipped in vain!

Drift, like the wind across a violet bed, Before thy many lovers, weeping low, And clad like violets in blue robes of woe, Who feel thy wind-blown hair and bow the head. Thy messenger the breath of dawn, and mine A stream of tears, since lover and beloved Keep not their secret ; through my verses shine, Though other lays my flower's grace have proved And countless nightingales have sung thy praise.

When veiled beneath thy curls thou passest, see, To right and leftward those that welcome thee Have bartered peace and rest on thee to gaze! But thou that knowest God by heart, away! Wine-drunk, love-drunk, we inherit Paradise, His mercy is for sinners ; hence and pray Where wine thy cheek red as red erghwan dyes, And leave the cell to faces sinister.

Oh Khizr, whose happy feet bathed in life's fount, Help one who toils afoot the horsemen mount And hasten on their way ; I scarce can stir. Safe only those, safe, and at liberty, That fast enchained in thy linked ringlets are. But from the image of his dusty cheek Learn this from Hafiz: That minstrel singing with full voice divine, What lay was his? The wind itself bore joy to Solomon ; The Lapwing flew from Sheba's garden close, Bringing good tidings of its queen and rose.

Take thou the cup and go where meadows span The plain, whither the bird with tuneful throat Has brought Spring's sweeter note. Welcome, oh rose, and full-blown eglantine! The violets their scented gladness fling, Jasmin breathes purity art sorrowing Like an unopened bud, oh heart of mine? The wind of dawn that sets closed blossoms free Brings its warm airs to thee. Lift up your grief-bowed heads, all ye that weep, The Healer brings joy's wine-cup oh, drink deep t Disciple of the Tavern-priest am I ; The pious Sheikh may promise future bliss, He brings me where joy is.

The greedy glances of a Tartar horde To me seemed kind my foeman spared me not Though one poor robe was all that I had got. But Heaven served Hafiz, as a slave his lord, And when he fled through regions desolate, Heaven brought him to thy gate. For I am sick and pale with woe ; Oh bring me rest from misery!

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The dust that lies before her door. Love's long desired elixir, pour Upon this wasted heart of mine Bring me a promise and a sign! Between the ambush of mine eyes And my heart's fort there's enmity Her eye-brow's bow, the dart that flies, Beneath her lashes, bring to me! Before my time have made me old ; A wine-cup from the hand of Youth Bring me for pity and for ruth! Then shall all unbelievers taste A draught or two of that same wine ; But if they like it not, oh haste! And let joy's flowing cup be mine. Cup-bearer, seize to-day, nor wait Until to-morrow!

My heart threw back the veil of woe, Consoled by Hafiz' melody: From out the street of So-and-So, Oh wind, bring perfumes sweet to me! Land where my Lady dwells, thou holdest me Enchained ; else Fars were but a barren soil, Not worth the journey over land and sea, Not worth the toil! Mine enemy heaped scorn on me and said: Wash white that travel-stained sad robe of thine! Where word and deed alike one colour bear, The grape's fair purple garment shall outshine Thy many-coloured rags and tattered gear.

Full easy seemed the sorrow of the sea Lightened by hope of gain hope flew too fast! A hundred pearls were poor indemnity, Not worth the blast. The Sultan's crown, with priceless jewels set, Encircles fear of death and constant dread ; It is a head-dress much desired and yet Art sure 'tis worth the danger to the head?

Ah, seek the treasure of a mind at rest And store it in the treasury of Ease ; Not worth a loyal heart, a tranquil breast, Were all the riches of thy lands and seas! XXII THE rose is not fair without the beloved's face, Nor merry the Spring without the sweet laughter of wine ; The path through the fields, and winds from a flower- strewn place, Without her bright cheek, which glows like a tulip fine, Nor winds softly blowing, fields deep in corn, are fair.

And lips like to sugar, grace like a flower that sways, Are nought without kisses many and dalliance sweet ; If thousands of voices sang not the rose's praise, The joy of the cypress her opening bud to greet, Nor dancing of boughs nor blossoming rose were fair. Though limned by most skilful fingers, no pictures please Unless the beloved's image is drawn therein ; The garden and flowers, and hair flowing loose on the breeze.

Unless to my Lady's side I may strive and win, Nor garden, nor flowers, nor loose flying curls are fair. The gold of thy heart, oh Hafiz, despised doth lie, Not worthy thy love to be cast by a drunken band At the feet of her who is fairer than all that's fair. XXIII MY lady, that did change this house of mine Into a heaven when that she dwelt therein, From head to foot an angel's grace divine Enwrapped her ; pure she was, spotless of sin ; Fair as the moon her countenance, and wise ; Lords of the kind and tender glance, her eyes With an abounding loveliness did shine.

Then said my heart: Here will I take my rest! This city breathes her love in every part. But to a distant bourne was she addressed, Alas! The influence of some cold malignant star Has loosed my hand that held her, lone and far She journeyeth that lay upon my breast. Not only did she lift my bosom's veil, Reveal its inmost secret, but her grace Drew back the curtain from Heaven's mansions pale, And gave her there an eternal dwelling-place. The flower-strewn river lip and meadows fair, The rose herself but fleeting treasures were, Regret and Winter follow in their trail.

All wisdomless and profitless I spend! The nightingale his own life's blood doth shed, When, to the kisses of the wind, the morn Unveils the rose's splendour with his torn And jealous breast he dyes her petals red. Yet pardon her, oh Heart, for poor wert thou, A humble dervish on the dusty way ; Crowned with the crown of empire was her brow, And in the realms of beauty she bore sway. But all the joy that Hafiz' hand might hold, Lay in the beads that morn and eve he told, Worn with God's praise ; and see!

With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear, A glass to mirror forth the Great King's face ; One ray of light from out Thy dwelling-place To pierce my night, oh God! From out mine eyes unto my garment's hem A river flows ; perchance my cypress-tree Beside that stream may rear her lofty stem, Watering her roots with tears. Nay, by the hand that sells me wine, I vow No more the brimming cup shall touch my lips, Until my mistress with her radiant brow Adorns my feast until Love's secret slips From her, as from the candle's tongue of flame, Though I, the singed moth, for very shame, Dare not extol Love's light without eclipse.

Red wine I worship, and I worship her! Speak not to me of anything beside, For nought but these on earth or heaven I care. What though the proud narcissus flowers defied Thy shining eyes to prove themselves mon bright, Yet heed them not! Before the tavern door a Christian sang To sound of pipe and drum, what time the earth Awaited the white dawn, and gaily rang Upon mine ear those harbingers of mirth: Where is the influence of the star that blights My hope?

Poems from the Divan of Hafiz

Autumn's abundance, creeping Autumn's mirth, Are ended and forgot when o'er the earth The wind of Spring with soft warm feet doth wend. The Day of Hope, hid beneath Sorrow's veil, Has shown its face ah, cry that all may hear: The long confusion of the nights that were, Anguish that dwelt within my heart, is o'er ; 'Neath the protection of my lady's hair Grief nor disquiet come to me no more.

What though her curls wrought all my misery, My lady's gracious face can comfort me, And at the end give what I sorrow for. Light-hearted to the tavern let me go, Where laughs the pipe, the merry cymbals kiss: Under the history of all my woe, My mistress sets her hand and writes: Where thou art thy lady stays The tale of separation ends with this!

Joy's certain path, oh Saki, thou hast shown Long may thy cup be full, thy days be fair! Trouble and sickness from my breast have flown, Order and health thy wisdom marshals there. Not one that numbered Hafiz' name among The great unnumbered were his tears, unsung ; Praise him that sets an end to endless care! Unloose, oh friend, the knot of thy heart's care, Despite the warning that the Heavens reveal!

For all his thought, never astronomer That loosed the knot of Fate those Heavens conceal ' Not all the changes that thy days unfold Shall rouse thy wonder ; Time's revolving sphere Over a thousand lives like thine has rolled. That cup within thy fingers, dost not hear The voices of dead kings speak through the clay? Kobad, Bahman, Djemshid, their dust is here, " Gently upon me set thy lips! Who knows where even now the restless wind Scatters the dust of Djem's imperial throne? And where the tulip, following close behind The feet of Spring, her scarlet chalice rears.

There Ferhad for the love of Shirin pined, Dyeing the desert red with his heart's tears. Bring, bring the cup! Perhaps the tulip knows the fickleness Of Fortune's smile, for on her stalk's green shaft She bears a wine-cup through the wilderness. The murmuring stream of Ruknabad, the breeze That blows from out Mosalla's fair pleasaunce, Summon me back when I would seek heart's ease, Travelling afar ; what though Love's countenance Be turned full harsh and sorrowful on me, I care not so that Time's unfriendly glance Still from my Lady's beauty turned be.

Like Hafiz, drain the goblet cheerfully While minstrels touch the lute and sweetly sing, For all that makes thy heart rejoice in thee Hangs of Life's single, slender, silken string. Like smoke above a flame caught by the wind. So rose she from my breast and forth she sped. Drunk with desire, I seized Love's cup divine, But she that held it poured the bitter wine Of Separation into it and fled.

The hunter she, and I the helpless prey ; Wounded and sick, round me her toils she drew, My heart into a sea of sorrow threw, Bound up her camel loads and fled away. Fain had I laid an ambush for her soul, She saw and vanished, and the timid foal, Good Fortune, slipped the rein and would not stay.

My heart was all too narrow for my woe, And tears of blood my weeping eyes have shed, A crimson stream across the desert sped, Rising from out my sad heart's overflow. She knew not what Love's meanest slave can tell: Hast thou forgotten how the glorious Swift nights flew past, the cup of dawn brimmed high? My love and I alone, God favouring us! And when she like a waning moon did lie, And Sleep had drawn his coif about her brow, Hast thou forgot? Heaven's crescent moon would bow The head, and in her service pace the sky!

Hast thou forgotten, when a sojourner Within the tavern gates and drunk with wine, I found Love's passionate wisdom hidden there, Which in the mosque none even now divine? The goblet's carbuncle hast thou forgot? Laughed out aloud, and speech flew hot And fast between thy ruby lips and mine! Hast thou forgotten when thy cheek's dear torch Lighted the beacon of desire in me, And when my heart, like foolish moths that scorch Their wings and yet return, turned all to thee?

Hast thou forgotten when thou laid'st aright The uncut gems of HafiV inmost thought, And side by side thy sweet care strung the bright Array of verse on verse hast thou forgot? And heart bowed down beneath a secret pain Oh stricken heart! Oh, weep no more! The secret of the world thou shalt not learn, And yet behind the veil Love's fire may burn Weep'st thou? To-day may pass, to-morrow pass, before The turning wheel give me my heart's desire ; Heaven's self shall change, and turn not evermore The universal wheel of Fate in ire.

What though the river of mortality Round the unstable house of Life doth roar, Weep not, oh heart, Noah shall pilot thee, And guide thine ark to the desired shore! The goal lies far, and perilous is thy road, Yet every path leads to that same abode Where thou shalt drop thy load oh, weep no more!

Mine enemies have persecuted me, My Love has turned and fled from out my door God counts our tears and knows our misery ; Ah, weep not! He has heard thy weeping sore. And chained in poverty and plunged in night, Oh Hafiz, take thy Koran and recite Litanies infinite, and weep no more! ALL hail, Shiraz, hail! May God be the Watchman before thy gate, That the feet of Misfortune enter not here!

Lest my Ruknabad be left desolate, A hundred times, " God forbid! There abide th the angel Gabriel's peace With him who is lord of its treasures ; the fame Of the sugar of Egypt shall fade and cease, For the breath of our beauties has put it to shame. Oh wind that blows from the sun-rising, What news of the maid with the drunken eyes, What news of the lovely maid dost thou bring? Bid me not wake from my dream and arise, In dreams I have rested my head at her feet When stillness unbroken around me lies, The vision of her makes my solitude sweet.

If for wine the Cup-bearer pour forth my blood, As the milk from a mother's bosom flows, At his word let my heart yield its crimson flood. The long-drawn tyranny of grief shall pass, Parting shall end in meeting, the lament Of the sad bird that sang " Alas, alas! Forth from the mosque! The preacher's homily Is long, but life will soon be spent! In Sha'aban the troops of Grief disband, And crown the hours with wine's red coronet The sun of merriment ere long will set, And meagre Ramazan is close at hand! Dear is the rose now, now her sweets proclaim, While yet the purple petals blush and blow ; Hither adown the path of Spring she came, And by the path of Autumn she will go.

Now, while we listen, Minstrel, tune thy lay! I sing thee all men's thanks ; thou blossomest And hope springs up in every joyless heart Let not the nightingale lament apart. Nor with thy proud thorns wound his faithful breast.

I will not mourn my woeful banishment, He that has hungered for his lady's face Shall, when she cometh, know a great content. The Zealot seeks a heavenly dwelling-place, Huris to welcome him in Paradise ; Here at the tavern gate my heaven lies, I need no welcome but my lady's grace. Better to drink red wine than tears, say I, While the lute sings ; and if one bid thee cease, " God is the merciful! To some, life brings but joy and endless ease ; Ah, let them laugh although the jest be vain!

For me the source of pleasure lay in pain, And weeping for my lady I found peace. Hafiz, why art thou ever telling o'er The tale of absence and of sorrow's night?

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Knowest thou not that parting goes before All meeting, and from darkness comes the light! Question the wandering winds and thou shalt know That from the dusk until the dawn doth break, My consolation is that still they blow The perfume of thy curls across my cheek. A dart from thy bent brows has wounded me Ah, come! If seekers after rubies there were none, Still to the dark mines where the gems had lain Would pierce, as he was wont, the radiant sun, Setting the stones ablaze. Would'st hide the stain Of my heart's blood?

Blood-red the ruby glows And whence it came my wounded bosom knows Upon thy lips to show what thou hast done. Let not thy curls waylay my pilgrim soul, As robbers use, and plunder me no more! Years join dead year, but thine extortionate rule Is still the same, merciless as before.

Sing, Hafiz, sing again of eyes that weep! For still the fountain of our tears is deep As once it was, and still with tears is full. Oh dwellers in the halls of Chastity! You brought Love's passionate red wine to me, Down to the dust I am, your bright feet stept. For Heaven's self was all too weak to bear The burden of His love God laid on it, He turned to seek a messenger elsewhere, And in the Book of Fate my name was writ.

Between my Lord and me such concord lies As makes the Huris glad in Paradise, With songs of praise through the green glades they flit. A hundred dreams of Fancy's garnered store Assail me Father Adam went astray Tempted by one poor grain of corn! Wherefore Absolve and pardon him that turns away Though the soft breath of Truth reaches his ears, For two-and-seventy jangling creeds he hears, And loud-voiced Fable calls him ceaselessly. That, that is not the flame of Love's true fire Which makes the torchlight shadows dance in rings, But where the radiance draws the moth's desire And sends him forth with scorched and drooping wings.

And his life ebb, sapped at its secret springs. Yet since the earliest time that man has sought To comb the locks of Speech, his goodly bride, Not one, like Hafiz, from the face of Thought Has torn the veil of Ignorance aside. My mouth has tasted bitterness, and learned To drink the envenomed cup of mortal lot ; Forget not when a sweeter draught was mine, Loud rose the songs of them that drank that wine- Forget them not! Forget not loyal lovers long since dead, Though faith and loyalty should be forgot, Though the earth cover the enamoured head, And in the dust wisdom and passion rot.

My friends have thrust me from their memory ; Vainly a thousand thousand times I cry: Weary I turn me to my bonds again. Once there were hands strong to deliver me, Forget not when they broke a poor slave's chain!

Sorrow has made her lair in my breast, And undisturbed she lies forget them not That drove her forth like to a hunted beast! Hafiz, thou and thy tears shall be forgot, Lock fast the gates of thy sad heart! But those That held the key to thine unspoken woes Forget them not! Thou art the breath of mercy passing o'er The whole wide world, and the offender I ; Ah, let the rift my tears have channelled end, Question the past no more! If thou would' st know the secret of Love's fire, It shall be manifest unto thine eyes: Question the torch flame burning steadfastly, But ask no more the sweet wind's wayward choir.

Ask me of faith and love that never dies ; Darius, Alexander's sovereignty, I sing of these no more. Ask to what goal the wandering dervish hies, They knew not his desire who counselled thee: Question his rags no more! And in their learned books thou'lt seek in vain The key to Love's locked gateway ; Heart grown wise In pain and sorrow, ask no remedy! But when the time of roses comes again, Take what it gives, oh Hafiz, ere it flies, And ask not why the hour has brought it thee, And wherefore ask no more!

Yea, to the Vale of Silence we must come ; Yet shall the flagon laugh and Heaven's dome Thrill with an answering echo ere we go! Thou knowest that the riches of this field Make no abiding, let the goblet's fire Consume the fleeting harvest Earth may yield! Flow, bitter tears, and wash me clean! No tainted eye shall gaze upon her face, No glass but that of an unsullied heart Shall dare reflect my Lady's perfect grace. Though like to snakes that from the herbage start, Thy curling locks have wounded me full sore, Thy red lips hold the power of the bezoar Ah, touch and heal me where I lie apart!

And when from her the wind blows perfume sweet, Tear, Hafiz, like the rose, thy robe in two, And cast thy rags beneath her flying feet, To deck the place thy mistress passes through. My soul is on my lips ready to fly, But grief beats in my heart and will not cease, Because not once, not once before I die, Will her sweet lips give all my longing peace.

My breath is narrowed down to one long sigh For a red mouth that burns my thoughts like fire When will that mouth draw near and make reply To one whose life is straitened with desire? When I am dead, open my grave and see The cloud of smoke that rises round thy feet: In my dead heart the fire still burns for thee ; Yea, the smoke rises from my winding-sheet!

Hoping within some garden ground to find A red rose soft and sweet as thy soft cheek, Through every meadow blows the western wind, Through every garden he is fain to seek. Yet when sad lovers meet and tell their sighs, Not without praise shall Hafiz' name be said, Not without tears, in those pale companies Where joy has been forgot and hope has fled. Spring, bride of all the meadows, rises up, Clothed in her ripest beauty: Of Spring's handmaidens runs this song of mine. The sugar-loving birds of distant Ind, Except a Persian sweetmeat that was brought To fair Bengal, have found nought to their mind.

See how my song, that in one night was wrought, Defies the limits set by space and time! O'er plains and mountain-tops my fearless rhyme, Child of a night, its year-long road shall find.

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And thou whose sense is dimmed with piety, Thou too shalt learn the magic of her eyes ; Forth comes the caravan of sorcery When from those gates the blue-veined curtains rise. Ah, swerve not from the path of righteousness Though the world lure thee! She plunders them that pause and heed her moan. From Sinai Moses brings thee wealth untold ; Bow not thine head before the calf of gold Like Samir, following after wickedness. From the Shah's garden blows the wind of Spring, The tulip in her lifted chalice bears A dewy wine of Heaven's minist'ring ; Until Ghiyasuddin, the Sultan, hears, Sing, Hafiz, of thy longing for his face.

The breezes whispering round thy dwelling-place Shall carry thy lament unto the King. XL THE margin of a stream, the willow's shade, A mind inclined to song, a mistress sweet, A Cup-bearer whose cheek outshines the rose, A friend upon whose heart thy heart is laid: Throw branches of wild rue upon his fire. My soul is like a bride, with a rich store Of maiden thoughts and jewelled fancies decked, And in Time's gallery I yet may meet Some picture meant for me, some image sweet.

Give thanks for nights spent in good company, And take the gifts a tranquil mind may bring ; No heart is dark when the kind moon doth shine, And grass-grown river-banks are fair to see. The Saki's radiant eyes, God favouring, Are like a wine-cup brimming o'er with wine, And him my drunken sense goes out to greet, For e'en the pain he leaves behind is sweet.

Hafiz, thy life has sped untouched by care, With me towards the tavern turn thy feet! The fairest robbers thou'lt encounter there, And they will teach thee what to learn is sweet. Like the full clouds of Spring, these eyes of mine Shall scatter tears upon the grave thy prison, Till thou too from the earth thine head shalt thrust. When did the bonds of friendship part? Matthew rated it it was amazing Jun 07, Mahdi Gharaeyan rated it it was amazing Feb 09, Yoko rated it it was amazing Dec 09, Zaighum Rajput rated it really liked it Nov 27, BookDB marked it as to-read Sep 05, Alexandra Skoronski added it Dec 15, Karina marked it as to-read Feb 03, Yvie marked it as to-read Feb 27, Nasim marked it as to-read Oct 03, Sarah marked it as to-read Nov 26, Yasmin marked it as to-read May 28, Pardees Fassihi is currently reading it Jun 24, Amjidraja marked it as to-read Jun 15, Jbondandrews marked it as to-read Jan 30, Mer marked it as to-read Jun 23, Michael marked it as to-read Mar 13, Reem Rafei added it Jul 21, Mak marked it as to-read Oct 19, Sirimalin Farida marked it as to-read Apr 27, Zero added it May 22, Anne marked it as to-read Sep 21, Brenda marked it as to-read Oct 06, Richard marked it as to-read Dec 10, Renee DeAngelis marked it as to-read Feb 18, Alex is currently reading it Sep 02, Laura Shirley marked it as to-read Nov 27, Shruthi marked it as to-read Jan 15,

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